


Victims of Duty

by icandrawamoth



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Politics, Banter, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Husbands, Kissing, M/M, Married Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-04 23:23:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12781875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: Tycho leans through the precariously stacked datapads on the desk to kiss Wedge where he already has his face tilted up expectantly. “Maybe I'll never get tired of saying out loud thatmy husband is President of the New Republic.”Wedge absolutely does not blush as he counters, “And mine is the Vice President. What a lucky pair.”





	Victims of Duty

**Author's Note:**

> For fan-flashworks prompt "office." I made the happy discovery while browsing Wookieepedia the other day that Wedge was approached to run for President of the New Republic with Tycho as his running mate, so I couldn't not write it, even if it just turned out to be a bit of fluff. (Because yes, I am actually capable of writing them being happy!)

Wedge thinks his office must be single-handedly keeping one or two major datapad manufacturers in business. There's always a pile waiting for him on his desk when he comes in in the mornings and more arriving throughout the day. Sometimes it seems like every time he sends one out with the work on it completed, two more come back.

He's just set one down, having finished going over the proposed bill it contains, when the comm panel on his desk buzzes.

“The VP to see you, Mister President,” his secretary announces.

“Send him in, Doona, thank you,” Wedge replies with a smile.

The office door slides open, and Tycho comes in, dark suit setting of his blonde hair, blue eyes bright with his smile. He looks as good as Wedge has ever seen him, and Wedge's expression widens into a grin.

“Mister President,” Tycho greets him, bowing with a flourish, and Wedge rolls his eyes, laughing.

“That joke's going to get old eventually,” he says.

“Maybe, but not yet,” Tycho allows. He sets the bag he's carrying to one side and leans through the precariously stacked datapads on the desk to kiss Wedge where he already has his face tilted up expectantly. “Maybe I'll never get tired of saying out loud that  _my husband is President of the New Republic._ ”

Wedge absolutely does not blush as he counters, “And mine is the Vice President. What a lucky pair.”

Tycho grins. “And as the spouse of the post power politician in the galaxy, I've come to enforce your lunchtime. No more work for the next half hour.”

Wedge rolls his eyes as he clears more space on his desk. “You don't need to tell me twice. And don't remind me that I'm a politician.”

Tycho retrieves his bag and begins to set out the food he's brought between them. “Politician,” he repeats and ducks away from Wedge's playful swat. “Come on, love, we both know you don't hate it as much as you play at. You wouldn't have taken the job otherwise.”

“I only ran because I was asked to,” Wedge reminds him.

“Ever the victim of duty.”

“And people needs leaders they can trust who would point things in the right direction, so-”

“Why not you?” Tycho raises an eyebrow.

“Why not  _us_. I'm not a dictator,” Wedge grumbles. “I'm surrounded by more advisers and senators and aides than I know what to do with.” He gestures to the datapads. “I feel more like a secretary myself half the time. At least you're spending more time out in the field, as it were. How was the meeting with the – the-” Wedge racks his brain, trying to remember.

“The Colonies Agricultural Council,” Tycho supplies, taking a bite of his food. “It went well; everyone got what they wanted, for the most part. I'll have a report for you by the end of the day.”

“Delightful.”

Tycho laughs. “I'm pretty sure I said no work talk during lunch, though.”

Wedge makes a face. “Fine. What do you want to talk about?”

“I got a comm from Wes and Hobbie earlier. They're visiting Coruscant next week, and they're demanding that we show them the sights, and I quote, 'the good ones, the way only the leaders of the free galaxy can.'”

Wedge chuckles. “I think we can do that.”

“ _And_ ,” Tycho says, eyes sparkling, “I have a surprise for you.”

“Should I be worried?”

“Of course not. I talked to your security, and I got them to agree to give you some flight time.”

Wedge groans. “Great. I get to take one of the designated ships up for a short period of time, not executing any 'dangerous' maneuvers or exceeding a ridiculously low speed threshold all while keeping well within a boundary of overeager bodyguards. Did I get all that right?”

“Nope!” Tycho says gleefully. “I know how much you hate that stuff. We agreed that you'd take an unmarked X-wing out to a designated area where there'll be security on the ground if you need it, but otherwise you're free. Though you do have to promise to be a certain definition of 'careful.'”

Wedge finds himself grinning. “How did you swing that?”

Tycho shrugs nonchalantly. “Might've called in a few favors.”

“Or used bribes?” Wedge laughs. “Only in office a few months and already abusing your power.”

“If it makes my husband happy.”

“It does.” Just the thought has Wedge's heart feeling lighter than it has in a long time. “It really does. You're coming with me, right?”

“Sorry, love, convincing them to let the head of state  _and_  his number two both 'put themselves at risk' was more than I was able to handle.”

A sighs breaks out of Wedge. “Fair enough.”

Tycho reaches across the desk to squeeze his hand. “We'll fly together like that again, I promise. One day we'll shake all the guards and run away like the crazy kids we used to be, and then who'll be able to stop us?”

Wedge smiles at the image. “I can't-” The comm buzzes again, and he winces as he presses the button to reply. “Yes, Doona?”

“Kittani Masha, sir. She's early for her appointment; should I tell her to wait?”

“Just a moment.” Wedge turns back to Tycho. “Don't make that face. I know your designated work-free time isn't over, but that's my speech writer. She's new, and she gets anxious if she has to wait around.” He chuckles a little. “Though she gets anxious when she's with me, too.”

“Probably starstruck,” Tycho says, amused. “You do have that effect on people.”

Wedge scoffs. “I'm a  _politician_ , not a celebrity. Now get out of here and let me work.”

Tycho shoots him the most dramatically sad look he can draw up. “Sending away the man you love and replacing him with some silly  _speech_?”

“Yes, I'm leaving you for the Assembly,” Wedge deadpans. “I'll have my secretary draw up the paperwork.”

Tycho laughs aloud as he clears up the remains of their meal. “Try not to work too hard. I'll see you at six?”

“If they actually let us leave then,” Wedge promises. “Kiss?”

Indulgently, Tycho leans in, one hand threading into Wedge's hair as he teases the seam of his lips. Wedge relents with a sigh, letting him deeper, losing himself in his husband for one long moment-

Until the comm buzzes insistently. “Sir?” Doona asks.

Wedge leans back, reluctantly pushes Tycho away to answer. “I didn't forget about you,” he says into the comm. “Send Miss Masha in. Thank you.”

When he looks back up, Tycho is already halfway to the door, and he gives a little wave goodbye as Wedge catches his eye. Wedge watches him go, then straightens himself in his seat, running a hand quickly through his hair, trying to look like the dignified statesman he's supposed to be rather than a man who's just been kissed silly by his husband.

**Author's Note:**

> Counting all applicable subfandoms, this is my _100th_ Star Wars fic posted to AO3! =D


End file.
